


men of (dis)honour

by orangeCrates



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Torture, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6201589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeCrates/pseuds/orangeCrates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward would not accept the offer to exchange information about the observatory for his freedom, but when Rogers offers the life of Mary Read and her child (Edward's), Edward accepts.</p><p>(But, of course, his enemy didn't play fair. They never do.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	men of (dis)honour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round two of mine and [Cards_Slash's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cards_Slash/pseuds/Cards_Slash) evil contest (Please Practise Fire Safety). The prompt she gave me was:
> 
> Mary Read is pregnant with Edward's baby when they both end up in jail. Edward won't give up the observatory but he makes a humiliating deal with the Templars to get Mary out. Fast forward a few months, he finds out he kept up his side of the deal but they didn't. Both Mary and his baby are gone but the unpleasant memories remain.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm not sure I did it any justice, but here it is.

Edward thought, if he and Caroline had had a child, he might not have had the resolve to leave (or he might have had the resolve to do better).

It hadn't occurred to him that a baby would have changed things. It was just another mouth to feed, a squawling thing that only cried to be fed and cried to be cleaned and cried to be held.

If he considered how he might have worn fatherhood it would only be to laugh at the very notion of it (he would wear it very poorly, he was sure).

Now, when the possibility of it was so close only to find that it had been snatched away, he was deliberately avoiding the thought, but it crept up on him when he drowned himself in alcohol, putting an arm over his eyes and grit his teeth like that could block out the voices hissing at him about how he failed and they were both dead, dead, dead, _dead_ \--

~ + ~

When they brought him to Mary and Bonny's trial, his mind was still full of nothing more useful or worthwhile than what he'd get from the Observatory and the determination to be as big a pain in the ass as possible to the British, the Spanish and the Templars (and if there had been a flash of anger in his gut, a brief twitch in his fingers that spoke of an aborted attempt to clench his hands, well, there was no one to prove it.)

He was shocked stupid when Mary shouted that they were pregnant. He could only guess at who Anne's baby belonged to, but there was an unsettling certainty that settled inside him that Mary's was _his_.

~ + ~

Rogers was a slimey bastard. He was the sort of foul stenched thing that got stuck to the bottom of your boot and then followed you for the rest of the day.

He showed up at Edward's cell when his temper was at its worst. He did not wait for Edward to speak before he said, "I have an offer for you."

Edward leaned back against the wall with a sneer, "I've heard it and I'm not interested. You can go find the Observatory or Roberts yourself if you want them so badly." Edward spat at him, "You're not getting shit from me."

"How charming." Rogers said like he meant _filthy rat_. "But I'm not here to talk about the pirates that were on trial today. You are acquainted, I believe? Mary Read--otherwise known as James Kidd--Hornigold has told me about her. Though, I suppose if you cannot be motivated for the sake of your own worthless life, we cannot hope that you'd care what happened to her."

There was no threat in the words themselves, but there didn't have to be when it was _there_ in his tone.

More feral than sensible, Edward threw himself at the bars, "you lay one hand on her and I'll kill you!"

It was a trap and Edward only realized it in retrospect. But all he felt was a fierce desire to rip the man before him to shreds when Rogers only smirked.

"Oh, this will be good."

~ + ~

Sometimes, Edward doubted the wisdom of drinking.

He did not drink to forget. Alcohol offered no blissful retreat from reality. Instead, he saw his past laid out before him, becoming clearer with each drink he downed.

He drank to see the faces of those failures he was too much a coward to face sober (and too far gone to admit to without drink making him insensible).

Being drunk let him see Caroline (screaming at him. Always screaming about how he'd left her because he loved gold more than her), it let him see the mistakes he'd made on repeat, to relive the horror and the helplessness (and maybe this time he'll be good enough to make them go away).

Now it was also for Mary, who came to him with her belly flat and her lips painted red telling him to _change course. Change your bloody course, Edward!_

(Which was better than her telling him that she'd be with him.)

When he sobers up he will not understand why he did it. Why he put himself through it but right now he knew it was because it was because he could not face it all otherwise.

~ + ~

Rogers had looked at him and said, "you made a slave your quartermaster, did you not? Since you enjoy associating with men like that and making them your equal, perhaps you shall like to be as low as them."

"Fuck you." Had been the only answer Edward could have given him.

"I can see that you value gold and treasure more than your own life. But what about this, I will make sure your woman goes free and unharmed. And it will only cost your pride." (Torres would not have agreed with his games, surely. He could easily imagine the Grandmaster shaking his head at him, but Edward Fucking Kenway had been a thorn in their side too long.) "Well? What shall it be?"

Edward's answer would have included the easy spread of his arms if they hadn't been shackled. Still, he managed to convey the same idea with limited motions. He said, "do your worst, mate." Because he was not _scared_ of them.

(Because it was his child Mary was carrying and he'd be damned if he let either of them rot in this place.)

~ + ~

There was no sign of Rogers the next day, but he had sent someone else another Templar, one assumed, in his place.

The man brought with him two things: a collar and a note.

When Rogers did come, two days later, he looked pleased.

"I wasn't sure if you'd known how to read."

Edward, with the collar fixed around his neck said, "is this the best you can do?" He pitched his voice differently, made it a mockery of Rogers' as he recited the contents of the note, "if you are to be a slave you may as well start here?" Edward leaned back against the wall, "you're going to have to do better than that."

"Oh," Rogers said, "believe me: I will."

~ + ~

Rogers was far too important a man to spend his days tormenting Edward himself. But Edward knew that if he upset the men Rogers sent in his place that it will, without a doubt, null any agreement they had made.

Edward wasn't certain what Rogers told his men to do, but it was certain that he chose them for their penchants for petty cruelty.

A hand gripped his hair painfully before shoving him face first against the floor.

There was food there, the same prison fare he'd gotten everyday. It was horrendous and bland, made even less appealing for having been spilt on the floor.

"Come on!" The man who held his head jeered, "Aren't you going to eat after we brought this food all the way here for you?"

Edward grit his teeth and thought, _if I had a knife I'd slit your throat._

He had spent his life fighting against his lot in life. He had left home so that he could live a life where no one would tell him what to do or what his worth was.

He could have killed this man and his laughing friend and felt nothing but a vindictive joy about it.

His hands clenched into tight fists and he reminded himself of what he was doing this for even as the Templar with a hand in his hair shoved him down again.

"Eat, you dog. I want to see you lick the floor clean."

~ + ~

When Rogers finally came again a week later, Edward asked, "is she free?"

To which Rogers only answered, "I have spoken to my men. They seem to be running out of original ideas. I have brought them fresh ideas and new playthings. I trust you will oblige them."

~ + ~

Rogers had brought him a metal mask, the sort, he said were used on the slaves that would rather eat dirt to suffocate themselves than live their lives. The mouth and nose were covered, with little holes to allow him to breathe.

Edward sat, obediently as Rogers put it on him.

"There." He said, "perhaps now you will learn to keep your mouth shut."

~ + ~

"Stand back up." The man said, laughing, "Come on, you big tough pirate! Stand up again!"

The mask made it difficult to draw in enough air. There was blood in the mask from his mouth...from his nose? Edward wasn't sure anymore. He stayed there on the ground, keeping himself up by his elbows and he thought, like a mantra, _this is for Mary. This is for her._

He was shaking as he pushed himself back up to standing. His whole body was covered in bruises and scrapes. He did not protest or retort, but he glared at the men standing around him, his mouth pulled back into a sneer that no one could see.

The man pulled back and punched him again, sloppy and without any attempt at hiding his intentions.

Edward will not defend himself. They knew it as well as he did.

~ + ~

A week later he asked, "is she free?"

"No." Rogers said, "not yet."

There was a promise in the word 'yet' and Edward clung to that as Rogers made him count the lashes he received.

~ + ~

Edward nearly broke and told the Templars to _fuck off_ when they told him he should _thank_ them for what they do.

He grit his teeth and was glad that they could not see because of the mask.

One of the men tapped the toe of his boot against Edward's face, where his mouth would underneath the mask.

"Oh, I doubt a pirate would have any manners. But perhaps we could train him?"

They laughed and one of them leaned forward to grab Edward by the hair and pulled his head back, "Come on. Say _thank you_ , you bastard."

Edward could not push the words out of his mouth. He thought, this is for Mary. But he listened to the way they laughed and couldn't bring himself to say the words.

It didn't seem to matter much, however and they only shoved him hard. "Come on, say it! We'll reward you nicely for it and if you don't we'll have to punish you."

~ + ~

"Is she free?"

"Did you know, Aesop once wrote of an Eagle, soaring hight about a Shepherd's Field--"

"I don't care for stories, Rogers. Tell me: is. She. Free?"

"Patience, you will know of her fate in due time. In the meanwhile, allow me to continue. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the eagle swooped down on powerful winds to seize a grazing lamb and carry it off to her nest. Flying close by," He said, staring right into Edward's glowering face, "a jackdaw saw the deed--"

~ + ~

Despite Rogers' dodging, Edward had thought the man would have kept his word.

If asked, Edward would say he did not believe in such a thing as honour (but the truth was that he did).

But he was angry when Ah Tabai came and he said he was here for Mary and Anne. He thought, _she should be gone._ The bruises and the broken bones he'd suffered, the collar and metal mask he'd worn for months were the price of her freedom.

(But you could not trust men like Rogers, because Mary was still there in the prison, his child had been taken, and in the end he wasn't able to save either of them.)

~ + ~

Alcohol brought his guilt and his mistakes to the forefront. But when he was drunk, he couldn't remember the bruise on his neck, or the scars on his back.

He did not remember the taste of dirt and leather boots on his tongue, or the smell of blood, caked and dried inside his mask.

(But he remembered the last conversation he had with Rogers, the story about the Jackdaw and Edward wished for nothing so much as he wished he had killed the man back them, strangled his words and his story until there was nothing left.

He'd have killed them all, every last one if it could have saved her.)


End file.
